


A Rainy Day

by rosemallows



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz, Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz (Two River Cast) RPF
Genre: Coffee Shops, Cool in college, F/M, Falling In Love, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Happy, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Rain, University, boyf riends - Freeform, meremy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-06-12 08:38:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15336051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosemallows/pseuds/rosemallows
Summary: Waterfalls doused him, head to toe.What a dreary day.Skys, him, this music; all add to a sum of a dreary problem.He looked over his shoulder, a sensible shock exploding in his stomach, releasing a strange kind of bug he had not anticipated. Fluttery-- yes, that was it. The answer as to why such a feeling resonated within him is simple: a simple peek, and you catch sight of Michael Mell.“Hello.” His happy pair of lips released such a simple word, and how dare he say such a simple phrase, after nearly overwhelming the other nineteen year old with such wondrous pleasures at seeing him!





	A Rainy Day

**Author's Note:**

> [Written July 18, 2018]
> 
> It’s currently raining extremely hard, which always puts me in a very write-y mood. My dog is currently by my side, and I’ve assumed he’s afraid of storms since he always seems to cuddle up near me and have his tail between his legs, watching the windows whenever a storm occurs. Inspired by the weather around me, mixed with my favorite pair, it is a perfect time for a drabble.
> 
> This is nothing but pure, pure fluff.
> 
> [It is not written to the best of my ability, and does not include a real plot. It was merely written for my own entertainment and satisfaction and has been written in less than a day, which is hardly appropriate to be considered GOOD]
> 
>  
> 
> Sense of Home - Harrison Storm

“I’m . . . not too sure,” Jeremy spoke into the phone’s receiver. “I’d have to ask my boss and all and _yikes_ , I get really nervous talking to him for basically anything.” His hand firmly pressed into the rag, sweeping the cleaning product into its counters and wiping up any residue of coffee or tea.

His eyes flew toward the window, startled by the crack of thunder in the distance. Trees just on the sidewalk outside of the small shop swayed dangerously, water drowning its leaves mercilessly. He had paused his actions momentarily, then begun to avert his eyes back to his actions, all the while keeping a steady hand with the phone to his ear.

“I’m sorry, what’d you say again?” The shop was basking in its darkness, lights occasionally flickering over the tables.

The nineteen year old sucked in a breath, clearly uneasy at the idea of being kept in such an isolate place during Mother Nature’s late night sob sessions. He stood up straight, listening to the voice at the other end. Her voice was a bit tired, yet full of forced sweetness.

“Okay, fine fine. I’ll get out now. I’ll meet you in . . . mmmm, how about twenty or thirty? It depends on how bad the rain is.” Jeremy set the rag aside, along with the rest of the dirty ones near the sink. A strike of crashing pots-- or, possibly the equivalent of a hammer smashing into metal echoed in the sky once more, still of course startling the boy to no end. Just his luck, at a similar time the luminescents in the coffee shop flickered to an ominous scene of darkness.

He lowered his head, agonized by this current predicament. “. . . Yeah. Okay. See ya in a few Christine.”

He turned the device away from his ear and pressed the bright red end button. Instinctively, the near adult wiped his pale, clorox scented hands against the coffee stained front of his white apron. His eyes blinked to adjust to the darkness, eardrums suddenly having a slight upgrade of acuteness due to lack of sight for the time being. The sound of aggressive rain jamming down into the pavement slightly raised a bit of his stress levels. _How the fuck can I get to Christine?_

His phone vibrated in his hand, and he turned his attention to the message lighting up the lockscreen of the very bright Christine Canigula, acquiring a Julliard School sweatshirt, hair swiveled into french braids resting along her shoulders. Her teeth were so bright, extending to her ears! And the ground behind her-- full of leaves either red, brown, or yellow.

She looked precious, ecstatic-- just _full_ of sunshine.

He looked back at the text.

 

_FURRY LOVER: hey mama miah! what are you doin?????????????_

A small smile cracked between the boy’s lips.

 

_Furry: i’m literally going to strangle you to death if you keep using so many question marks you goddamn--_

 

At the next rumblus sound of the clouds and rain, he clicked off his phone and cursed to himself.

“Right, right. Gotta get going,” he mumbled, already unraveling the ties of his apron. He hung the stained material on the nearest hook, then sauntering over to the large sink to rid his dry hands of any smell of chemical and more.

He had to be quick, possibly catch the next bus to that stage performer’s home. The teenager quickly scanned over every little detail in his job, making sure each thing was clean, tidy, and perfect.

Jeremy snagged the hoodie on the hook, shoving it over him in an attempt to withstand the storm he was about to step into. He pulled the hood of the large cotton material over his head, aware of the large size.

After all, the hoodie did not belong to him, rather belonged to Michael Mell, his best friend of, upcoming fourteen years. The cotton of the hoodie was especially in need of slight repair; with a few holes here and there. The patches, however were quite resilient to every hardship that boy has been through.

 And so, Heere quite simply plugged in some earbuds in the pocket of the hoodie, putting those earbuds in his ears. He snatched the keys to lock up the shop, quickly approaching the doors. He flipped the _Open_ to _close_.

Once Jeremy pushed the doors open, he felt all the excitement drain from him once the splash of Mother Nature grazed his head, dripping cold ice down his white skin. Fingers in his pocket, he adjusted the song, along with the volume of such music. 

A gentle strum of an acoustic guitar seeped through his head. It was an all too familiar song; in fact one that always got his head to sway a bit and his shoulders relax.

Such a melancholy song it had been, however, and seemed to match the mood of the weather.

Jeremy began walking, drowning out the screaming sounds of the liquid, and held his own knuckles tightly as he stepped. The bus station would be a few blocks away, and for the time being, his only source of comfort would be the strums of guitar from different songs echoing in his eardrums.

He lowered his gaze to the excessive amounts of puddles flooding the streets of New Jersey. Just a little while longer; all he had to do was catch the bus to the next town over, meet Christine, watch movies til the other fell asleep.

 

He stood miraculously still.

 

Those ocean blue eyes of his; a color unlike any other, so gorgeous and _incredible_ \-- they stared outward into the streets. Vehicles of every kind slowed down the street, afraid to get themselves into a dreadful accident, because, wow, all of this _rain_ was absolutely atrocious.

He could feel the water seeping through the clothing, dampening and chilling his skin terribly. It was already dampening just the tips of his hair that stuck out from underneath the hood. How could this rain blotch this hoodie to a darker shade of blood in such a short period of time?

The sound of the stringed instrument had seeped deep into his skin, the absolutely melodious sound too much for his heart to bear. Perhaps that’s why Jeremy Heere had learned to enjoy it; how the sound conjured up such interesting colors in his heart and soul.

Waterfalls doused him, head to toe.

What a dreary day.

Skys, him, this music; all add to a sum of a dreary problem.

He will keep some part of happiness within him however, as, of course, will be reserved for the girl of sunshine-- Christine Canigula.

He closed his eyes momentarily, inhaling in the scents the rain had provided for him along with the overwhelming stench of gasoline. 

And he allowed the flow of the waterfall to drown him in all of its beauty.

But, he suddenly felt the driest of winds take its place of such rains, a cooling shade settling over him. Water dripped down his black jeans and he felt the discomfort of damp clothing clinging to one’s body. When he opened his eyes, with music settling into his ears, he snuck a peek upward, noting the large, blooming blossom of an umbrella; blue and hiding the sights of the grey murk in the skies.

He looked over his shoulder, a sensible shock exploding in his stomach, releasing a strange kind of bug he had not anticipated. Fluttery-- yes, that was it. The answer as to why such a feeling resonated within him is simple: a simple peek, and you catch sight of Michael Mell.

There he was, from a simple text box on a smartphone to a person holding an umbrella for the boy on such a dreadful day. Yet, his face, full of smugness and delicious glee. His round spectacles nearly hid the fact that his chocolate coated eyes were lit up.

Jeremy noted his split eyebrow, just on his left.

“Hello.” His happy pair of lips released such a simple word, and how _dare_ he say such a simple phrase, after nearly overwhelming the other nineteen year old with such wondrous pleasures at seeing him!

Jeremy knitted his brows at the underwhelming greeting, and stepped forward, allowing his fist to forcefully come into contact with his best friend’s shoulder.

Michael let out a quiet, _oof_ , still _clearly_ grinning like the terrible person he dare be.

“ _Hello?_ You _ass!_ You nearly gave me a heart attack! What are you doing here?” The rain hitting the pavement was louder than the sound of guitars.

Jeremy clutched his elbows, grinning and feigning annoyance.

Michael, with his hair slightly damp, replied with a bit of a laugh to his words. “I knew you were working. So I came to visit you! I just had some _Playa Bowls_ and figured I’d come. It’s such a rainy day, Jer. I knew you’d forget to check the whether.”

The paler one half smiled. “Didn’t save me any Playa, did you?”

Mike raised his eyebrows. “You save me any coffee?” 

“I didn’t know you were coming!” 

“Touché, Heere.”

Michael’s hoodie consisted of a _Rutgers University_ logo, and Jeremiah had no doubts that the rain was covering up the faint scent of marijuana coating the cotton. The Asian/Hispanic’s eyes traveled down to his own hoodie covering his friend’s which was barely doing him any justice from the water.

His smile did not waver, in fact it had increased in size at the mere thought that his best friend still cared to wear that thing, though he _did_ have to return it to him pretty soon . . . Although, Michael had supposed that he could perhaps be lenient for just a little while longer. Jeremy _did_ excel at the “oversized sweatshirt” aesthetic.

Mell pushed his glasses up onto his nose just slightly and inquired, “Where you going?” He motioned his hand toward the sign of the bus stop, then switched hands at holding the umbrella. The other blinked a couple of times, seemingly caught in the middle of gawking.

“Going?” he mumbled, then caught on the rest of the spoken words. “Oh, right! Um. I finished early, so I figured maybe I could go to Christine’s!”

Mike turned his head slightly; let his eyes glue to a spot on the road, constantly being pelted with rain bullets.

“Christineeeee!” He smiled and added an eyeroll. “How’s Julliard treating her?”

Jeremy hugged himself. “Oh no, she loves it. Now she definitely has a chance reaching Broadway. Man . . . I’m . . . I’m really proud of her.” Michael’s eyes traveled to the boy’s lips, curled in that smile of his. The skinnier one’s mind was obviously preoccupied, stuffed with thoughts of Christine: Aspiring Actress!

Mell’s mouth relaxed, resuming a neutral expression.

“Mm, I’m glad,” he stated, snapping his friend out of that trance. “Eh, I’m not that surprised. No way she couldn’t have made it.” 

The coffee shop worker nodded, but then looked up at his friend, who in turn locked eyes with him. Jeremy cleared his throat, squeezing himself tighter.

“Hey um,” he began, then knit his eyebrows together and pressed pink lips tightly. “Thanks. The-- the umbrella.”

Mike raised both eyebrows once more, showing a full teeth smile. “ ‘Course Jer.”

The rain shrouded them still, and it occupied the what could have been silence.  


“Not just that. The hoodie, too. It’s super comfortable dude, and I’ll bring it back to you, like soon after I get home.” He spoke, still staring right at Michael, wondering if he could possibly find a _thing_ he was looking for in the tan one’s features.

“Oh that thing? Tch, dude, yeah I’m definitely keeping track of that, you twinkie,” he teased, poking a finger at him. Jeremy’s eyes widened to the size of the moon, as well as his face flushing to a red deeper than the tomato fruit!

He half smiled, because Michael was already beginning to cackle at the one’s reaction, stifling his own chuckles with a palm. However, that name was not one to be taken lightly! The teenager, teeth as shiny and genuine as the other’s, pushed with a strong tease against his friend, sheepish out of his mind.

Mell stumbled backward, releasing the blossom of an umbrella and exposing both to the unpleasant sensation of a heavy downpour. Both expressed sounds of utmost displeasure, Michael’s glasses already stained with drops.

Jeremy’s smile was short lived, and he extended a limb out toward the sky, watching the water run along his pale fingers. Michael tucked the spectacles into the pocket of his University hoodie, blinking just a couple of times to adjust to the very blurry sight. He extended a couple of fingers to the handle of the upside down rain protector, snatching it quickly and settling it back atop the two of the soaked figures.

Jeremy looked at him once more, examining the chocolate river Michael had in his eyes that were always so hidden by the glasses. He hadn’t always noticed the lovely shapes of his eyes-- how they resembled cat-eyes.

The pale one had come to a conclusion that he did not need eyeliner if he wanted to attempt a cat’s eye. It was naturally there, and quite a striking look on such a character as the Mell boy.

“Jer?”

The silence was broken, yet, suddenly, there was something quite strange that had suddenly clicked inside-- though, how odd had it seemed for him . . . A warm, pink flush painted those white cheeks that unnatural color that did not always occur on his face whenever he was around Michael Mell. What’s stranger is how _warm_ it was . . .

The warmth of it all felt like holding a mug of hot chocolate: one sip and it suddenly spread through your entire body, coating every piece of skin with such a comfort of hot that you just wanted yourself to relax into it.

Yes, that warmth was similar to the effects of hot chocolate.

Or he supposes it could also be similar to the effects of alcohol-- a light _buzz_ , and you are happy as can be, teeth grinning with all of their might.

 

Hot chocolate and alcohol; what an awful strange comparison.

 

This, Jeremiah had come to realize, was not the only time an odd occurrence like such has taken place. However, it _is_ the first time that it has overwhelmed every part of him.

His stomach was brimming with that overwhelming fluttering. A magnet in him was insisting he move closer, yet there was a bunch of confusing thoughts in his head that jumbled together to form an incoherent mindset.

He was so, so warm. The rain and guitar and the strange jumble of words in his head was terribly too much. Just too, too much!

“Hey, Jer, you alright? You’re so . . .” Michael placed an extended arm on his shoulder, trailing off as he examined the boy’s flustered and what looks to be conflicted expression. He is confused, as it seemed to have happened so fast, and he had no idea what could have been the source of this quick reaction.

“Why are you standing there all creepy?”

He flinched. His eyebrows suddenly pinched together, lips opening and closing senselessly.

“I’m wonderful,” he replied. He blinked just a couple of times. “I-- I think I’ve figured it out now.”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “Figured . . . it out?”

Jeremy met his eyes. “Oh, uh, nothing.”

Michael was really, _really_ vexed and bewildered. Yet, maybe, it was another _chance_ to just further understand this boy. He took his hand off of his shoulder, instead reaching for his hand, tucked into the crevice of his other elbow, just as he saw the bus coming over in the corner of his eye as a big blurry mass.

The boy flinched once more once Mike covered his palm over his.

“Uh, so, I know you’re not obligated to tell me anything too personal, but if there’s anything wrong or whatever, I could always just be near you for support. Like best buddies do, right?”

Jeremy’s eyes were so, so full of _something,_ so wide and sparkling with some kind of emotion. He let his fingers linger on the taller one’s palm, staring so intently at him.

The skinny teenager exhaled, a solemn look replacing the ladder, and he lifted a palm to cup the side of his friend’s face (damp and soft), which clearly took him by surprise, as it was his turn to suddenly turn color and increase the size of his eyes.

“Thank you.”

The bus squealed to a halt, the doors opening with a squeaky hiss. Jeremy uncupped his best friend’s face. His fingers lingered onto the Hispanic’s skin, enough to send a vague message to the now flushed teen. Jeremy turned and quietly muttered, 

“I’ll see you soon,” with an undertone that stated, _I have something to think about_.

His body vanished once the doors hid him away, leaving Michael standing absolutely flabbergasted with one free hand hovering in the sky, and the other sealing an umbrella so tightly in his hand.

The ghost of Jeremy Heere’s ginger fingers still remain, implying a gesture that seemed to excellent and schoolboyish at best to be true.

Oh, how that touch made him red . . . how _simple_ it was. It was . . . certainly a strange gesture, and a surprise nonetheless.

Michael watched the bus drive off.

Perhaps . . . it is too good to be true; the thought, the notion.

A girl so wondrous and full of sugar and nothing but . . .

How impossible to dislike. How impossible to _not_ fall into heaps of love.

It had been too good. And those ginger touches, the warmth of his face and excitement in his eyes: those must be the result of dreary day hallucinations.

 

A fantasy is a fantasy.

**Author's Note:**

> I get excited upon getting notifications of a comment, and I always read and respond to them. It'd be wonderful to hear your feedback, whether good or bad, I enjoy so much reading them. So, please always try to write one if you get the chance :)
> 
>  
> 
> Facts:
> 
> Playa Bowls is a popular smoothie bowl place in New Jersey and I frequently go there!
> 
> There is also one in Rutgers University, which is the University Michael and Jeremy attend.
> 
> Sense of Home is the song I had Jeremy listening to, because Will Connolly, the original actor who had portrayed Jeremy is very skilled with a guitar, so I assume he enjoys that.


End file.
